


The Three of Us

by The_Amarathine_Carrion



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Getting Together, I just wanted to write something cute about the three of them, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Polyamory, Self-Esteem Issues, They are hopeless idiots in love, dimisylvix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Amarathine_Carrion/pseuds/The_Amarathine_Carrion
Summary: Sylvain decides that Dimitri and Felix have been pining for each other for too long and it’s his job to do something about it.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 114





	The Three of Us

“Come on, Highness. Just one? Just for me?”

“Sylvain..I cannot. That’s— I’m serious Sylvain! Remove your hand!”

Felix grumbles as he forces himself to turn the corner, despite never wanting to have to interrupt a scenario like this. He wholeheartedly regrets every step that’s responsible for bringing him to face this moment.

Sylvain’s face is nestled in the crook of Dimitri’s collarbone, and Felix is not so far away that he cannot see the sly smile he wears, as well as the swollen mark on Dimitri’s neck that is undoubtedly at least part of the reason for the blush on the King’s face. Dimitri grunts, embarrassed, and tries to untangle himself from the hold Sylvain has around his waist as well the proximity of their lower bodies pressed against one another— which only Sylvain could find a way not to appear dwarfed by.

He huffs, waiting for them to settle, pretending that it doesn’t bother him. He’s had plenty of practice by now. Besides, he’s here on official business. His responsibilities as the Duke already put him in a sour mood and he can easily blame his attitude on that, if it comes down to it.

“Felix..! I apologize for our unseemly behavior. Sylvain..”

Dimitri whips around and cuts off with a cough, obviously uncomfortable with sharing just exactly what Sylvain was planning to do. Felix doesn’t need to hear it to make a guess. Despite what people might assume of him, he’s not as innocent as he seems and he’s perfectly capable of using his imagination— especially when it involves Sylvain.

Sylvain has no shame. He never does. He should now, however, because the royal garden is not the stealthiest of places to feel up the King of Faerghus. Dimitri is still quite a busy man, constantly in demand now that the war was over. He’s lucky it was only Felix that found them.

Felix has caught them a number of times before. They were even less discreet back at the Monastery. It was one of many ways to deal with the stress of combat and being forced to kill the people you still cared about. Sylvain showed the Boar how to use sex to avoid dealing with your feelings. Felix ignored it, though he knew it wasn’t healthy, and continued to use training incessantly and shutting everyone out as a method to ignore his. He’s not going to judge them for doing what they could to survive the constant and impending trauma. They were all pretty messed up on that account. 

No, the negative feelings he harbors toward them right now doesn’t stem from judgement. He’s had enough time to process them that he understands why the ache in his chest when he sees them together can’t just be blamed on his usual irritation at Sylvain’s sloppy antics.

It’s jealousy. Just thinking the word alone makes him angry. Seeing them together is a poison that seeps through his bloodstream by the traitorous pumps of his heart, longing to reach out to be touched by them in the way that they so comfortably ensconce one another. He wants that— from the both of them.

Such feelings are useless in the wake of the world they are working so hard to create.

Sylvain’s arms fall to brush against Dimitri’s hips as he steps behind the King to place his head on Dimitri’s shoulder, cocking it to look at Felix with a smile that is genuine and free of the lust it carried seconds before. Felix didn’t know that he could hate something just as much as he loved it until he returned to Garreg Mach after five years of very minimal contact with the idiot and saw the way time had made that smile blossom from the grey down of a cygnet to the full iridescent feathers of a swan.

Dimitri’s electric blue eye is brilliant, stealing so much of Felix’s breath when he’s captured in his visage that Felix is certain he would collapse under the weight of his gaze were the King to retain full use of both of them. His relationship with the Boar is more complicated than any other living person. It was a harder conversation for Felix’s heart and his mind to have to accept the affection he held for him.

None of that matters right now. None of it will matter ever. Dimitri and Sylvain got engaged shortly after they could be certain of their victory. They’re married now, and Felix intends to honor that, as he works daily to suffocate any lingering undesirable sentiments. Their happiness is more important than any of his foolish feelings.

“I need you to sign some documents. I’ve looked them over a few times, but I could use your input as well.”

Straightforward and businesslike— that’s how he prefers his relationships to be. It’s a hard habit to break after all these years. Even in the face of peace and the possibility of prosperity, he remains suspicious of letting his guard down among the two people he considers to be the closest he has to love in his life. They’ve all had time to start healing now, two years of it, but Felix is behind on the curve.

Sylvain and Dimitri make him sick in a way he’s not sure he wants to recover from. He holds on to the illness of his unrequited attachment like it is the only lifeline in his very small sea of regrets that somehow still have the capacity to drown him. Addiction for another’s presence when there’s nothing to be done about it is a disease that eats away at you— until your instincts stop responding and you no longer know what it feels like to be hungry.

Dimitri kisses Sylvain on the forehead before he follows Felix back to the Castle and into his office. It’s another small regret to add to the briny water boiling within him— that he didn’t turn away in time to avoid seeing it.

* * *

  
“I think we should talk to Felix.”

Dimitri pauses in the middle of removing his shirt to look at Sylvain, already naked underneath the thin sheet which hardly covers the distinct outline of how he feels toward His Highness. Sylvain has a way of confusing him with his sudden, vague, statements even after all the years of their friendship and their semi-recent matrimony.

“What’s this about, Sylvain? Did something happen?”

Sylvain sighs, running his hand through his hair. It’s already so messy. Dimitri likes it that way— likes it even more when it’s because of him.

“Something’s been happening for a long time now. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Dimitri furrows his brows. Was Felix okay? Did he miss something? He’d seemed fine when they were in his office earlier— a little irate, but that was normal behavior as far as he was concerned.

“You really haven’t huh? Wow. I knew you were oblivious, but it’s Felix, so I thought you must have at least some idea.”

Sylvain scoots over and pats the space he’s created right next to him. Dimitri sits, his shirt still hanging halfway off his frame, and the combination of that with the bemused expression he wears must have been enough to make Sylvain laugh despite the serious connotation of his tone.

“He loves you Dimitri. Well, that’s not exactly it— he loves both of us.”

Dimitri feels his heart accelerate. Felix? Love him? That was not possible. Felix despised him. He’d felt so since the Western Rebellion, and perhaps even sooner than that— when they could not return his brother’s body due to the grisly state of his sacrifice...

Warm fingers squeeze hard against his own and the hot breath of Sylvain whispering in his ear makes him aware that he is trembling, pressed up against his husband. His own breath feels like shattered glass— lungs desperate to avoid shredding upon impact at the implication that anyone he has wronged so grievously could love him.

He already has a love undeserved one thousand times over in Sylvain. Sylvain— who holds him like he is something he can never get enough of, like he is something so precious and spotless, transcendent and unfathomable, yet also like he is the very foundation of his strength.

“That cannot be true.” Dimitri chuckles darkly. “I am but a beast to him still, and will remain as such, always.”

“ _Dimitri..._ ”

Sylvain’s fingers are on his face now, turning him, forcing him to look into his eyes. Dimitri does, and his breathing finally settles when his husband leans his forehead against his. A shiver rocks his body even further into Sylvain’s embrace. He is eager to receive the affection his mind rejects, but the years have not been kind enough yet that he believes himself to have earned it.

“Trust me on this one, babe. I see the way he looks at you. He’s pining. I see the way you look at him too. It’s the same look, different face. I know you two better than anyone else in the world. I know you think you’d never deserve each other, but you do. You really do.”

Dimitri tries to suck in a gasp, but is consumed instead by Sylvain’s lips pressing softly against his. Tenderness tears down the towers of trepidation— the remnants of trauma that no amount of holy fire could cleanse. Yet, in the small, wet swipe of Sylvain’s tongue, he is reborn again and again. One day, he will emerge from those ashes, still coated in soot, but with bones no longer broken, skin stretched new and shining under the blazing brilliance of a life that does not beg him to believe his death is the final thing he must atone for.

“I..I am—”

Sylvain kisses him again, swallowing all of Dimitri’s excuses and giving him answers to questions he couldn’t formulate fast enough to feel the fullness of their despair. Sylvain so easily heals the wounds Dimitri cannot see, barely even alerting him to it in the process. He cannot begin to understand what it is that he can possibly do for Sylvain, the person who is at once the sun and the stars and the moon in a sky that would be endless darkness without his presence.

“You are perfect for each other. Let’s talk to him together, Dimitri. I love you both. I’m tired of fighting this. After all we’ve been through, we deserve to rest.”

Dimitri cannot understand it, but if by some miracle he somehow found himself able to be loved by someone like Sylvain, and Sylvain is so positive that Felix could find it in his heart to forgive him enough to claim that he also loves him….well then—

Dimitri has no choice but to surrender to it. He is the most powerful man in Faerghus, but in matters of the heart he finds very little footing to help him stand strong. If Sylvain is all of the light he needs to see with then Felix is everything on earth nurtured by that light, and they are all that he needs to convince him the gift of his life is not a mistake to amend.

* * *

  
Sylvain is smarter than people give him credit for, especially when it comes to the motivation behind the emotions spurring ones actions. He has to be. He’s found success when it comes to loving the two most hopelessly stubborn people in all of Faerghus.

Felix is someone that he’s loved since before he can remember. All of his stupid sexual conquests, the flirting that only projected his loneliness, the one night affairs that kept Sylvain biting his lip— not from any source of pleasure but from the effort of keeping from sobbing Felix’s name— it was all just one soiled mess of a bandage. Felix claimed to keep his distance from him, but he was never far behind Sylvain when it came down to it.

They promised they wouldn’t die before the other. It’s hard to keep away from a person when you’re constantly watching their back.

Sylvain’s love for Dimitri was something that grew slowly over time, then suddenly devoured him in the face of carnage and fire and death. His Highness was a pillar he prayed to in his youth, and an altar where he lay his body in sacrifice during the turmoil of war. Neither of them begged for forgiveness under the dark expanse of the chaotic night, but they were fortunate to find it without searching when the edge of dawn awoke every unspoken word that began with _I love you_ and ended with another promise Sylvain intended to keep until the day he died. The only difference between them is, this time they’d had an audience. 

Sylvain has never claimed he deserved anything other than what was coming to him from the iniquity of his choices. He’s scum, right? The second born spoiled brat. He’s nothing but a thief, a greedy kleptomaniac who continues to steal what he doesn’t need— because what he does need is something that he’ll never accept even when it’s freely given to him.

The only time he can accept love is when he himself gives it. He hands right back what’s been given to him, never allowing the stain of it to take, never letting the red soak through his skin. Even so, he loves them both, and he tries, he tries to come up with the best solution. He tries to come up with a way that the three of them, battered and bruised and forever scarred by a world that had already killed them many times over before they took the lives of countless people they care for, can express their love for one another.

It can only begin with bravery— like anything else in this world does. Sylvain finds Felix toward the end of the following day in his office and decides that he’s not leaving until Felix agrees to talk to them.

“I’m having tea tomorrow morning with Dimitri before breakfast. I know you get up early and don’t like to eat right away, so I’d appreciate it if you were there.”

Felix doesn’t even glance up from the document he is scanning.

“No.”

Sylvain laughs, pulling the document out from underneath Felix’s loose grasp and leaning forward onto the desk in a way that would infuriate anybody who was trying to get work done— perhaps even arouse a few of them as well.

It certainly works on Felix. His cheeks flush red and he mutters curses before confronting Sylvain about his behavior. It’s cute. Really cute. Both of his loves are so bad at hiding how they feel, yet are convinced they can continue to do so when it comes to him.

“Sylvain! Stop messing around. Give that back.”

Sylvain twirls the paper in his hands more gracefully than he would appear he’s able to. He doesn’t even pretend to consider giving in to Felix’s demands.

“Nah, I won’t. Not until you say you’ll come.”

“ _Sylvain_.”

Felix’s voice has that deliciously dangerous edge to it that Sylvain cannot help but to crave coaxing from him at any possible opportunity. He’s had more dreams than he could count starring that voice, though the situations always, sadly, ended up being far less sexual in reality.

Sylvain hops away, committing to memory the sight of Felix bending over his desk with eyes sharp enough to cut through his torso in one slice and his bun slightly messier than normal from the strain of a long workday. He hopes this Felix will be the star of his dreams tonight.

“What do you say, Felix? It’s a real simple request. Have tea with us. It’ll probably take less time than it would chasing me down the hallway for a silly piece of paper now.”

Felix slaps his hand over his eyes in a motion of incredulity.

“I am the Duke of Fraldarius. I cannot believe I am being bribed out of the decision as to whether or not House Galatea would benefit from merging once again with Daphnel’s lands by Gautier’s biggest buffoon over a cup of tea right now.”

Sylvain shrugs and laughs again, because he knows he’s already got Felix wrapped around his finger.

“I guess you’ll have to explain to Ingrid the reason behind why she’s starving then.”

Sylvain walks out of the room moments later empty handed and nursing what will become a nasty bruise on the side of his abdomen. Felix sure hadn’t lost any of his stamina just because the war was behind them.

* * *

  
“Dimitri, it’s okay. The tea’s just started seeping. We have time.”

Dimitri releases his grip on the table in surprise. It looks perhaps a little dented. He feels terrible about everything already, and now that...

Now, Sylvain is smoothing his eyebrows— a warm hand on his lap to ground him. He sighs, deep and long like Sylvain has taught him to, and tries to quiet his mind of at least the fear that Felix will not show up.

“He’ll come, babe. I promise. Even if I have to go get him myself, he’ll be here.”

Dimitri nods, not really thinking or believing but just allowing himself to be. To exist— sometimes that is the best we can do.

“Looks like I’m already interrupting.”

They can’t see him from the positions they’re seated in, but the voice that comes from the doorway is undeniably the only other one they want to hear.

Felix stands awkwardly, a small stack of papers in his hand as if he was planning on doing work while he visited or perhaps that he was intent on leaving altogether after telling them off. He does neither of these things, however, crossing the threshold and sitting down with a huff that was almost extinguished by the fluttering of the documents that he placed off to the side— beyond the reach of any food or liquids.

Sylvain and Dimitri stare. Suddenly Sylvain doesn’t feel as confident as he was when he orchestrated all this. Felix looks just a bit more decorous than usual. His hair is sleek and clean, pulled into a low braid that hangs delicately over his shoulder and to the front of his chest. It’s longer than Sylvain realized. When did that happen?

Dimitri is dazed. His one eye struggles to process the proof that this is actually happening. He hadn’t had tea with Felix for many years. He hardly thought it appropriate to do much more than discuss legal matters with him, though he tried to remain open to personal conversations. Felix never offered them, of course, but the possibility was always there.

Both men try not to gawk at Felix’s increasingly pink face. He’s dressed in some of his better clothes, not ones he would wear to a fancy affair such as a diplomatic meeting with a leader of another country, or a wedding, but nicer than he’d care to when it was just another day in Fhirdiad dealing with the overwhelming pile of paperwork. It was almost as if..

... almost as if this were a date.

* * *

  
Felix certainly didn’t expect them to stare like this. He also didn’t expect Sylvain to be in a robe that showed off far more of his chest than it covered. There’s no reason for him to blush over that. They’ve all seen each other naked throughout different stages of their lives, and while he hasn’t slept with Sylvain in the way he’s sure Dimitri has by now, there were a few times that they fooled around under the oath he made Sylvain take to never bring it up again.

He’d obviously misunderstood the situation. It was incredibly embarrassing to sit here and squirm under their eyes. Why did they insist on looking at him like that? Why did Sylvain bring him here if they were just going to gawk?

“Why am I even here?”

He has half a mind to leave before they come up with an answer. Dimitri has a look in his eye that tells him he’s on edge and his history with the Boar makes him respond in kind. Sylvain’s hand on Dimitri’s arm shouldn’t make him feel like he wants to tear his hair out of his braid and fling the band at him.

Sylvain clears his throat. Some emotion in his eyes that shouldn’t be directed at Felix, should only remain for Dimitri in the hours they share alone together, force him to look away. It makes him sick to hope such a thing might also be reserved for him. Sylvain should not indulge him in such fantasies, regardless of the nights they spent in the past confiding in one another.

“Hey, Fe. I’m glad you came. We both are.”

Felix snorts, still not looking at Sylvain. He does spare a glance at Dimitri, who looks just as ill as he feels, and he probably has reason to. If Sylvain is going to confess his love for Felix like he has a suspicion that he will, that will greatly affect their relationship. He’s married to the King and whatever nonsense he’s trying to pull will have great political ramifications. Sylvain better think long and hard about what he’s trying to imply with this meeting and his sly words.

“Whatever. What is it that you’re dying to say Sylvain? You didn’t even take the time to dress properly.”

 _He’s actually blushing._ Sylvain runs his hand nervously through his hair, the action causing his robe to open just a little more and Felix’s stomach to drop alongside it. Beside him, Dimitri shifts and Felix follows the line of his collarbone to the impressive swell of his shoulders. He swallows, feeling incredibly nervous at the magnitude of his attraction for the two before him. It would probably be wise to leave.

Probably, but he’s had enough of this tiptoeing around. Sylvain went through the trouble of being enough of an ass to earn a punch to the gut. He supposes that earns him the audience of his ears for a few minutes.

“You, uh, you look nice, Felix. Doesn’t he, Dimitri?”

Dimitri grunts, his face reddening in absence of his words. Felix almost sucks in a breath at the way his King is looking at him. He waits to see what he will say next.

Nothing. They continue to stare at him in a way that makes him torn between wanting to challenge them to a duel or sweep everything off the table and drag them onto it.

Is that all then? All they can say? Felix doesn’t know what he expected. He’s not one for words, and he’s not used to being the one who has to direct the conversation when Sylvain’s around, but he supposes he’ll have to do something about these idiots.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t do this for you. Now, stop hiding behind one another and spit out what you dragged me from my duties to say.”

Sylvain blinks, then laughs, slapping Dimitri on the back and wincing when the force doesn’t cause the King to move forward but hurts his hand instead. Dimitri mutters something incomprehensible and places his head into his hands.

“Felix...Sylvain has mentioned to me...something...”

He trails off, lips moving against the flesh of his palm and Felix full on rolls his eyes at the mess of it all.

Sylvain rubs his shoulder in reassurance, but Dimitri does not continue, so he poses a question in another attempt to draw forth the confession. 

“I sure did. Do you want me to just tell him for you, Dimitri?”

Felix groans, a blush on his face now as he figures out where this is going. He still wants Sylvain or Dimitri to be the one who says it though. He does retain some pride, after all.

“Just tell me!” He snaps, unaware as to just when he started shaking from the anticipation.

Sylvain leans forward, the dip of his robe absolutely sinful when he frames the cheeks of his face with his palms. He looks like an angel but Felix knows that devilish smirk anywhere and he knows what the insatiable fool is capable of.

“We love you, Fe. Both of us. We want to be together, however you’ll take us. We just want to stay here, forever, with you.”

Felix opens his mouth, then closes it again. It was one thing to suspect and another thing to hear his suspicions so unashamedly spoken aloud. Sylvain looks like a lovelorn idiot, dopey eyes glazed over with affection, except he is not staring at his husband— those eyes are for _him._

Dimitri— _Dimitri_ , the boy he loved before the unrelenting fire of fate stole away his mind and severed the connections of his heart, the King he swore up and down would live and die as an animal, reborn as a man who still feared his hands would break all that it dared to hold close to him— Dimitri’s body trembles, turned away from Sylvain and arched toward him.

They longed for him in the way that Felix longed for them— in that way and in a hundred more. He’s not sure when he decided to stand. He’s not sure when the tears Sylvain wipes from his face with the soft press of his lips began.

“Y..you..You. Both of you..

Dimitri pulls him into an embrace, Sylvain comes up behind him. Their bodies are a wall of warmth he never knew he needed to thaw him.

“Us. All of us, Fe. The three of us.”

Dimitri kisses his forehead, and when Felix raises his eyes, the garden is within sight from the window. The pale light of the morning sun rises higher to signal the full start of a new day.

Felix can subtract that small regret of finding them a few days ago alone in that garden, and every kiss afterward from his two lovers will silence another one, until the sea of regrets slowly dissipates and the dawn of a new era in their Kingdom has surely come.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thefriedpipes)! Come talk more about fe3h with me 🤗


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